At the main ranch, she found a paddock full of geldings to put the mare in, threw her a flake of hay, and walked toward the employee apartments. She knocked on LJ’s door, her hand jittering so the sound came out more urgent than she’d intended.

He answered with one corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. “What you knocking for? Afraid I was naked?”

She snorted, feeling almost normal again as she came inside. “Why wouldn’t I be? You can hardly ever keep a shirt on.”

“My mama always complained about the same thing when I was a kid.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Make yourself at home. Sorry it isn’t much down here. I figured it would be less obvious than me walking over there lugging a pot of beans.”

“Obvious?”

LJ glanced away. “‘Dangerous’ is what I meant to say. Carrying a hot pot of red beans over that hill with my big, clumsy feet.”

She bit the inside of her lip. There was definitely something going on with him, but she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to face whatever it was. Especially if it might mean the end of their dinners together. She sat down in one of his straight-backed chairs. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you called.”

Her gaze jumped toward the floor, focusing on the clean-swept boards. Out loud, it sounded way too accusing, and she’d decided on the way down she didn’t want to make a big deal out of those three days.

“I told you I’d be having dinner at the main house for a while.”

Had he said that? She couldn’t remember whether he’d said it was for one night or whether he hadn’t specified. But then, he didn’t have to answer to her. He could eat his dinner anywhere he wanted.

He kicked his boot against the floor. “Not sure why I bothered. Didn’t help.”

“Help what?”

His jaw flexed, the two muscles in it hard and separate for an instant. Then he smiled, though the lines of it didn’t sit just right. “I thought I’d try my hand at charming your daddy.” LJ’s cheekbones were high and beautiful and almost distracting enough she didn’t see how fast his smile faded this time. “I don’t like the way he looks at me.” He glanced at the stove. “I wanted that part of my life behind me, but I’m still the same person. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised some people are always going to think I’m a thug, no matter what I do.”

She crossed the kitchen, stopping when she realized his hands were caged in his pockets, not gesturing along with his voice or dancing across pots full of food. The oddness of it knocked her words a little off-balance, so all she could think to say was “LJ, no!”